When You're Young
by 50ShadesofGerardGay
Summary: She couldn't cry for help, so she made one bad decision after another. One-shot. Dark-themed.


**I...this spawned from a bad mood. This does not represent my views on abortion, and I'm not getting into them tonight. I haven't gone through this; this is purely research.**

* * *

It had been the third time that morning that she'd darted out of the classroom to the nearest trash can. She could never make it to the bathroom.

Someone had opened a bag of salt and vinegar chips in class.

Wiping her mouth, Tori Vega trudged to the bathroom to rinse out what was left of the chip-induced vomit in her gums. She didn't know why she was sick; she hadn't even eaten breakfast that morning. But for some reason, she just felt queasy. When she begrudgingly met her friends at Jade's scissor covered locker, the smell of hazelnut macchiato made her stomach churn and she hurled in Robbie's bag. At lunch, the mere sight of burritos and taquitos being served from the food truck in the Asphalt Café sent her running.

And now those stupid chips.

Thank God it was her last period of the day. She made her friends promise not to tell that she threw up; she'd rather die than get sent home where her mother would ask her way too many questions. Aside from the three times she puked, she felt completely fine; it was like any other day.

What if…

No. She couldn't.

There were probably twenty-five minutes left in school. Trina wouldn't mind leaving early to take her home, would she? No, wait. Trina would ask questions, for the brief thirty seconds she would care, and she'd probably blab to their parents.

Getting Trina to take her home was out of the question.

After wiping her mouth with a paper towel, Tori looked at herself in the mirror skeptically. She didn't look any different. Weren't pregnant women supposed to have a glow or something? She brought her hand to her stomach and sighed.

She couldn't be pregnant.

Well, she could…considering she'd slept with Andre after a lot of beer at a party. She didn't really like him in the way to sleep with him, but three shots of tequila and four Solo cups full of some German beer she couldn't pronounce made her think otherwise that night. She could have sworn they used protection, though. She didn't really check as she slunk out of the room silently, her clothes in hand. She wasn't sure Andre even remembered what happened, or if he even knew they slept together.

Tori sure as sugar didn't remember.

She didn't know if they used protection, and she should have tried to get a morning after pill, but she didn't. For one thing, she didn't have money. For another, you had to be seventeen to get one and she wouldn't be seventeen for another three months.

A lot of good that would do her.

How long had it been since she had her period? She usually kept track of it with an app on her phone, but she'd been swamped with school over the past month and a half. She had two acting scenes for Sikowitz, a set design project with Cat, a three minute song that she had to perform in front of the whole school, and a short film script that she still hadn't finished for her screenwriting class. She barely had any time to breathe, let alone think about her period.

She needed to find a way to get to a gas station or something and get a test. Just to be sure.

Tori gasped and stepped backwards until she pressed her back against one of the stall dividers. Her hands shot to her head as she slid down the cold metal and brought her knees to her chest. She let out a small whimper and closed her eyes.

What if she really was pregnant? What would she tell her parents? What would she tell Andre? A baby would ruin her life; it would no doubt ruin his. Once anyone found out she was pregnant, it would go back to Andre. Her pregnancy would be a double edged sword for him: if he decided to help her raise the baby, he wouldn't be able to do much else with his life; if he decided to shut her out, everyone would hate him and that would probably follow him off into the real world, especially since her parents would probably make her take him to court for child support.

She wouldn't be able to go to college.

She wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to, but she knew it would be impossible to do so if she had a baby. She couldn't take her kid onset with her if she became an actress. Sure, Brangelina probably did it, but they were both older than she was—practically dust bags—and they had money for nannies if they couldn't take their kids to work. Tori couldn't afford a nanny. With a kid, she couldn't even _be_ a nanny. She would have to put her life on hold, at least until she could send her kid to school.

That would be four years down the drain, since she really wanted to send her kids to preschool.

Oh, God. What would her mom think? What would her _dad_ think? He wasn't the most…levelheaded person that she knew. Would he kick her out? Would he make her go live with the father, even if he didn't know it was Andre? Would he _kill_ Andre? Would he kill her after the baby was born for being so stupid?

"I can't do this," she breathed.

* * *

_You give what you give cause they make you._

* * *

**11 pm.**

Tori had never snuck out before.

She'd never gotten drunk and woken up naked in bed with her best friend, either, but that was a different story. Well, actually it wasn't, but that didn't matter right now.

Her parents went to bed around ten, and Trina had locked herself away in her room as soon as they got home. Tori didn't feel safe sneaking out late at night, but she couldn't risk anyone knowing.

There was a dingy little convenience store down the corner from her house, but her parents never let her go there because her dad said it was a criminal breeding ground. He threatened to make her stay the night in jail if he ever caught her at that store.

Despite the warm night, Tori wore a big hoodie and pulled the hood tightly over her head as she entered the store. Nervously, she made her way up to the counter and cleared her throat. The cashier, a tall Asian man with tired features, glared down at her. "Buy or get out," he demanded in a deep, terrifying voice.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up beneath the hood and she lowered her head. "I need a pregnancy test," she mumbled.

"Speak up," the man ordered, tapping his hand rapidly on the counter.

"I need a pregnancy test," she repeated a little louder, keeping her head down.

His eyes displeased and his mouth set into a disgusted grimace, he turned around and grabbed the first test from his small selection on the back wall by the cigarettes. He slammed it down on the counter, causing her to jump slightly. "Twelve-fifty," he announced after punching the buttons on the register loudly.

With fumbling hands, Tori reached into her pocket and fished out a twenty. She spotted a chocolate bar on the stand beneath the counter—Caramel Crisper, her favorite—and snatched it from its box, placing it sheepishly on the counter with her money. "Keep the change!" she shouted as she swiped the test and the candy bar and rushed out of the store. Embarrassed, she was on the verge of tears.

Now to go back home and use the stupid thing.

* * *

_Trapped inside a place that won't take you_

* * *

The Caramel Crisper was the only thing that kept her sane while she waited for the results. The cashier gave her a test that made her wait five minutes to see if she was really pregnant or not, so she munched on her candy bar slowly, trying to make it's smooth caramel center and rocky peanuts calm her nerves.

"Tori, are you in there?" Trina shouted, banging roughly on the door. The sudden noise shocked Tori into dropping her candy bar onto her lap.

"I'll be out in a minute!" she called. She shot up from the toilet and lifted the cover quietly after putting her candy bar on the counter by the pregnancy test. She quickly ripped off her hoodie and shoved it under the counter, closing the doors quietly so Trina wouldn't get suspicious.

"Hurry up!" her sister screamed. "I have a thing on my foot and I need the tweezers!"

With a disgusted face, Tori grabbed the pregnancy test. She wrapped it up in toilet paper and shoved it in her back pocket, thankful she wore a shirt with a back long enough to cover it. She took the box and wrapped it in toilet paper as well, shoving it in the tiny trashcan beside the commode. She folded the wrapper on her chocolate bar and put it in her front pocket before opening the door.

"It's about _time_," Trina groaned, pushing past her younger sister. She opened the cabinet behind the mirror and pulled out a bedazzled pair of tweezers. She held them out to her sister with a serious glare. "Pop it for me."

"Ew, no!" Tori exclaimed, exiting the bathroom. Her sister groaned again and slammed the door shut. With a tired sigh, she went to her room and closed the door gently. In her pocket with the chocolate bar, her phone vibrated and played an 8-bit rendition of 'Firework' by Katy Perry. Taking in a deep breath, she pulled out her phone and silenced the alarm. Clenching her eyes shut, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out the toilet paper-covered pee stick. Keeping her head up and her eyes closed, she unwrapped it. When she felt that there was no more paper on it, she opened her eyes and slowly lowered it.

A digital smile.

"Crap," she breathed, her voice high pitched and terrified. She dropped the test and kicked it under her dresser before she began pacing the length of her room. A string of profanities sounded off in her head as she grabbed her arms, threw them down, shot her hands to her hair, and threw them down again.

This was no good.

* * *

_And they want you to be what they make you._

* * *

She didn't remember falling asleep. But she woke up sprawled on her bed in the clothes that she hadn't bothered to change out of. When she rolled onto her side, she felt something squish. "Oh, _man_," she whined, dropping her head back onto the pillow when she realized that she'd left her candy in her jeans all night.

Slowly, she climbed off her bed and trudged to her closet. Her body felt heavy. Nothing felt right.

She didn't deserve a shower. Stupid people don't deserve nice things.

To be completely honest, she felt like shit. What was she going to do? She was only sixteen. She couldn't have a baby. She needed to finish high school. That would be way too hard, and she wasn't allowed to drop out—which was pretty stupid in some cases. She doubted she would be able to pass the California High School Proficiency Exam. Even if she did pass, she doubted she would get parental permission to drop out.

Today was going to be a long one.

She wasn't entirely sure her clothes matched, considering she just picked out the first things her hands touched, but she was completely sure that she didn't care.

She didn't brush her teeth, and she didn't shower. She didn't talk on the car ride to school, and she didn't even lash out at Trina for belting out 'Five Fingaz to the Face' at the top of her lungs. When she entered Hollywood Arts, she managed to go straight to her locker and her first period class without seeing any of her friends.

She went about her day thinking about the baby inside her. Could she really go through with a teenage pregnancy? Could she live knowing that she was just another statistic? That she was pretty much putting her life aside to raise a child she wasn't entirely sure she wanted? How much help would her parents give her? How much help would Andre give her? Or would she even tell him? She could lie and say it was some other guy's kid. After all, no one could pin her conception on the party, and probably no one saw her and Andre. She could just say that she went to visit her _abuelita_ and met a cute boy and they got a little too friendly. Everyone would think she was a slut when they found out she'd gotten herself knocked up anyway.

By lunch, she knew she wouldn't be able to avoid her friends. At one point during the day, she noticed that she wore bright pink and white skinny jeans and a pastel orange top. She looked like a train wreck, and her friends would notice. They would notice that she didn't feel like herself, and she wasn't really experienced in the lying department.

She had to skip school.

She couldn't let her friends see her.

As soon as the bell rang for lunch, she took off running.

* * *

_It's already over and done._

* * *

By the time Tori got to the women's health clinic, she was wheezing and gasping for air. She hunched over in front of the doors and put her hands on her knees. She clenched her eyes shut as her body heaved with air, trying not to think about what she was about to do. But then her eyes started to burn, and tears brimmed behind closed eyelids.

Slowly, she stood up, moving one of her hands from her knee to her stomach. She balled her other hand into a fist and wiped her eyes, breathing in deeply before opening them. With a snot-ridden sniffle, she went inside.

She'd only been here once in her life, and she remembered only being seven at the time. The waiting room that had seemed to stretch for miles wasn't even bigger than her living room. The chairs were metal folding ones and crudely drawn portraits of mothers and their kids hung on the wall. There were two other women in the room: a woman whose stomach looked close to busting, and a woman who looked to be over fifty five.

As she walked up to the receptionist's desk, she ran her tongue over her plaque-covered teeth, briefly wishing she'd bothered to brush them. "H-hi," she stammered meekly, placing her fingertips on the edge of the desk that came up to her neck.

"What can I help you with?" the receptionist asked. If she weren't feeling so glum, Tori would most definitely swoon over him. He didn't look too much older than her, but obviously old enough to go through whatever schooling you had to in order to be a receptionist. His jaw was finely chiseled and she could see pieces of brown stubble coming in. His chestnut hair was buzzed just the way she liked it, and she nearly lost herself in his azure eyes when he looked at her with a dazzling, white-toothed smile.

"I…I'd like to schedule an abortion," the frightened girl whispered, "A-as soon as possible, please."

His gorgeous smile disappeared and he lowered his gem-like eyes to the paperwork spread messily in front of him. After sifting through a few papers, he picked up a clipboard and slid it to her over the desktop. He grabbed a pen from his holster by his computer and placed it on top of the board. "Fill this out," he instructed, refusing to meet her eyes. "It tells you everything you need to know about what's going to happen. But because you're a walk-in, you'll have to wait in line for the next available time."

"Do you know when that is?" Tori asked, just barely above a whisper.

"No," the receptionist answered curtly, turning back to his computer. "Please have a seat."

Holding the clipboard tightly against her chest, clutching the pen in hand, she made her way to a chair furthest away from everyone else. Luckily, there was a corner spot open just out of view of the large window.

As soon as she sat down, she looked at the first paper that went into detail about the procedure. She would need to have her blood drawn, which she was also uneasy about. Her pulse, weight, height, and blood pressure measurements would also be taken before she received an ultrasound, but she didn't have to look if she didn't want to. She would be able to choose between three types of anesthesia: General (where she would fall completely unconscious), light (where she would be awake and feel the cramping that came with the medical abortion, but she would also be slightly delirious from the amount of pain medication in the anesthetic), and local (where she would just be numbed and conscious, possibly feeling cramps).

They would put her on a table and put an IV in her arm. A speculum, whatever that was, would be put into her vagina before her cervix was numbed. A tube would go in through her cervix and into her uterus, and that's where some of the cramps would come from. The cramps would continue as suctioning started and the fetus was removed. Then she would be relocated and monitored by nurses to make sure she was okay.

The paper said it wouldn't last more than ten minutes.

On the page below that, she had to list the last day of her last period, her medical history, if she was on any medication, and if she wanted to receive the clinical abortion or the pill which would be explained on the next page. There were warnings about what she couldn't do, including eating or drinking after midnight, brushing her teeth, and chewing gum. She was encouraged to buy ibuprofen, a heating pad, and really thick sanitary pads, as well as having someone to pick her up when everything was done because it was dangerous to let a woman in her soon-to-be condition drive.

She flipped the page, her eyes scanning on what the pill would entail. She would have to talk to a counselor, probably to make sure she was committed or whatever. They would give her a pill that she could take orally or vaginally. It was supposed to terminate the pregnancy by cutting off her progesterone since that kept the pregnancy tied to the uterus. Then she would have to take another pill—which she could do at home—to induce what would look like a miscarriage. Again, she could take it orally or vaginally. She would have a heavy period and really bad cramps, and she might even have diarrhea.

Risks included allergic reactions, incomplete abortions where some of the pregnancy would still be in her body, infection, and bleeding. And though the pill worked 97% of the time, there was that 3% chance that it wouldn't end her pregnancy. She would have to come back in two weeks to make sure she really wasn't pregnant anymore.

If she took the second pill vaginally, there was a 67% percent chance that she would start bleeding within four hours. That percentage increased to 90 within twenty-four hours. She was expected to bleed or spot for nine to sixteen days once she'd taken all of the pills.

Weighing her options, she thought about throwing herself down a flight of stairs.

That would get rid of the baby, and it would more than likely get rid of her. She honestly didn't feel like being alive right now. Stairs would be the cheaper option.

But being more realistic, despite the panic attack bubbling inside her, Tori checked the box for the clinical abortion and filled out her credentials. She debated on whether or not to use her insurance or her mom's credit card. Either way, it would be hell explaining the hefty charge. Though she had the card in her back pocket, she opted for the health insurance; at least everything would be covered and she wouldn't have to worry about paying her parents back.

She felt bad for taking things from her mom's purse, and she felt worse that Trina would probably take the blame.

But she couldn't have a baby.

After signing her name at the bottom of the page, she got up and returned the clipboard to the now-rude receptionist. He told her that her name would be called shortly, which she doubted.

However, her anxiety took over and she blacked out her time in the waiting room.

Her name was called three times, and eventually the receptionist had to get up and roughly shake her arm. She jumped up and followed his patronizing finger after the doctor with her head down.

The doctor made small talk.

The testing and measurement taking scared her.

Her eyes bulged at the procedure room.

She almost puked at the sight of the IV.

And before she knew it, her eyes were fluttering open. The doctor smiled at her, said something about recovery, and she was lead to a small room with a little cot. An elderly nurse sat on a tiny stool by it, waiting for her.

As soon as she could, she lowered herself onto the cot and curled up into a ball. She felt hollow, but she felt a small stinging pain. Her stomach felt like it was being twisted the way she used to wring out bubble wrap when she was younger. She clenched her eyes shut, waiting for her insides to pop.

Another blackout.

Sometime later, the nurse's warm hand on her shoulder woke her up. The pain was gone, but not the emptiness. She was told to go to the desk and pay, then she would be free to leave. As she stood, her legs felt shaky, like she hadn't used them in months. If not for the nurse, she would have fallen twice just trying to make it out of the cramped room.

She avoided speaking as she handed over her mom's insurance card, and she kept her head bowed. When everything checked out, she trudged out of the clinic. Mechanically, her legs took her to the small bench near the front doors. She pulled out her phone and dialed her sister.

* * *

_When you're young..._

* * *

Trina asked questions, but Tori didn't answer them. If she spoke, she only mumbled about how she didn't feel well. And when they got home, she went straight to her room and locked her door before falling onto her bed and sobbing quietly into her pillow.

She knew she shouldn't, but she regretted it. It was better this way. She wouldn't be able to care for a child at such a young age, and she couldn't bear to ask her parents to help her out. She had no doubt that she would have loved her baby unconditionally, but that wouldn't be enough. Her love wouldn't give him or her food or clothes. If anything, her love would keep her from going to college. Her love would bring shame into her house. Her love would ruin hers and her child's life.

But who was she to take it?

She should have gone through with the pregnancy and given the baby up, no matter how much it hurt her. She would rather have her child in a good, loving home that would provide for him or her than…

Before she knew it, Tori stood in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror.

No.

She didn't know _who_ she was staring at. That girl in the mirror—that piece of _filth_—wasn't her. Her normally envious, pin-straight, chestnut hair was frizzy and disheveled; the ends were starting to form big curls. Her eyes were red and puffy, her mascara caked in lines down her face. Her lips were dry, pale, and a little cracked. She held a lifeless stare, as if she'd given up on everything.

How could she let herself become this person?

Suddenly, her legs wobbled and gave out, causing her to hit the floor with a loud thud. The cabinet door under the sink popped open, and she stared solemnly at the cleaning supplies wedged between the tiny walls.

She had that stupid abortion to clean out her uterus. No more baby. But she didn't feel clean.

"Dirty," she whispered, leaning forward to grab the nearly empty bottle of Clorox. "Dirty," she whispered again as she unscrewed the top of the jug. She looked down at the white liquid inside and a single tear rolled down her cheek. "Dirty," she whispered as she brought the opening to her mouth.

She tilted her head back and let the foul smelling liquid slide down her throat. She felt like she was drinking pool water, and it burned a little. She wasn't sure if her eyes were watering from the sadness or the smell. Her nose twitched in pain, but she continued to drink. Her body shuddered, but she didn't stop until she'd taken in the last drop. She had to have taken in at least four ounces.

Tori dropped the jug with a loud clutter and hunched over, holding her stomach. She could feel the bleach eating away at her insides, and she pressed her lips tightly together to keep from screaming. She didn't want her family to watch her die.

Her chest began to tighten and she could feel her heart beating rapidly in her ears. She started coughing, but then her stomach turned and she fumbled for the toilet, throwing the lid up and vomiting. She wanted to cry out from the pain, but all she could do was throw up. Her body felt like her insides were on fire, and she couldn't stop the tears streaming from her eyes or the snot spilling from her nose.

As her body heaved with her nausea, and as she started to see blood spewing into the toilet bowl, her vision grew dark. Her arms weakened and she couldn't hold herself up any longer. She fell roughly—and she was sure she hit her head on the linoleum—but she couldn't feel anything. She gasped for air, struggling to breathe.

Her eyelids grew heavy.

The last thing she heard was her name.


End file.
